Friday, August 06, 2004
Wassup? ^__~
Sorry about the dark mood of my last post, that was the headache talking. I swear it wasn't me! It isn't, it isn't!
...nvm now I sound like a kid. -___-;;;
Lol. I can be so moody sometimes eh? I'm just like that. Up one moment then down the next. I can be more unpredictable that the weather if I choose to be. But most of the time people who actually know me can come to tell whether I'm happy or sad. Or just plain grumpy. Lolz.
Anyway it's 11.15pm now. Kinda late. I broke my promise to sleep early! *gasp* But then again I'm mostly well already. :P Just a stupid cough and lots of greenish phelgm. Stupid snot. -____-
I had fun on MSN with yunie, yao and loc. Well loc is known as furby now. ^___^ He walked right into that one! I mean, he did suggest it himself. :P
All I did was call him "furball", then followed by stuff like "furz", "furry", "furry dearie", and then he was like "why not just call me furby?" in a sarcastic way. Then he went "oops! shit..." and then I was like "LOL you set yourself up for that one FURBY". And that's how his new nickname came about. Lolz...
We people at BoAjjiang forums are downright nuts. It's like an extended family there. We keep coming up with weird nicknames for each other. Like Yunie's alternative nickname, which is "blonde". Say that to her and watch her go up in flames. It's really hilarious.
Tiggy is well, Tiggy. Cori wants us to call her Mrs Felton since she's obsessed with Tom Felton. And Cori also came up with a nickname for Jwu, which is "Tree", since she says that he's "always there". Lol....
And then there's dictator Coolin, that I came up with. ^__^ Addkidd = Charlie = Fishie. I came up with the Fishie nickname. :P And now poor Fishie's on everyone's dinner menu in BJ. ^__^ And then there's Choopy, Jwu's and Fishie's favorite punching bag. ^__^
I'm thinking of giving Jwu a new nickname. Like Twinkie. Cos he keeps saying that he's "a twinkie that speaks only english and a little taiwanese". ^___^
Well my own nickname is fairly pedestrian. It's Esty, short for my username Estrea. Although Furby came up with a new one called "Da shizznizz" or something like that. -___- And of course I have many other nicknames on various forums. Everyone knows me as Krista on solid07, since it's my pen name. And Kanaii calls me everything from Vampy to Pogo Stick. -___- Lol...
Oh and on the Vampyrs forum my "mom" calls me kiddo, or just simply "My daughter~~~". Lol. And on Vampyrs its worse, the kind of nicknames we get. Mine is Ice, which is good compared to others. I mean, Lex, aka Jack, is now known as Dorothy after a nickname poll. Lol. And my mom is now Tinkerbell. ROFLMAO!!!
And of course, who can forget Ben and his alterego BunnyPink? ^__^ And then there was Matt being christened "Bob the Builder", and Kitty getting turned into "Puss in Boots". I can't really remember the other one...hmm. But these can tell you the kind of crazy stuff we go through in terms of nicknames. ^___^
I also have several old nicknames from past experiences, like Sephi. Kent still calls me that, I guess its a habit now for him. Elena was my very first pen name when I started out on Fanfiction.net. Now I know that Elena is actually a Russian name. Didn't know that before lol. Well it still sounds cool anyway, and I used the name to name one of many alteregos that I have.
To summarise my alteregos:
Sephi = evil mad scientist
Elena = Hyper, crazy pacifist that has a sadistic streak sometimes
Estrea = Calm, morose, level-headed, bitter, very negative and cynical but also has a morbid sense of humor. Evil to boot.
Rex = Self-important asshole with an attitude problem. Plus needs hormonal control.
??? = My philosophical side. Loves to argue with me over abstract concepts and theories.
Well that's about it. The "???" is unnamed only because we are still currently disputing over whether he/she/it is actually an alternate side of me, or a separate entity, or even just simply me. It's a topic of serious discussion which we bring up when we both have nothing better to do. ^__^
I sound weird don't I? Giving my alteregos names and personalities. Well maybe not weird. Maybe other people do that too. But I guess not many people argue with their alteregos on the definition of whether the alterego is really the alterego, or YOU are the alterego, and the thing you think is the alterego is the real thing...
Now THAT is a concept guaranteed to give you a perpetual headache if you think too much into it.
In fact, I'm gonna go to retire to bed now and argue some more with that little voice over who is the real person here. ^___^
Ta ta~~~
]
Sorry about the dark mood of my last post, that was the headache talking. I swear it wasn't me! It isn't, it isn't!
...nvm now I sound like a kid. -___-;;;
Lol. I can be so moody sometimes eh? I'm just like that. Up one moment then down the next. I can be more unpredictable that the weather if I choose to be. But most of the time people who actually know me can come to tell whether I'm happy or sad. Or just plain grumpy. Lolz.
Anyway it's 11.15pm now. Kinda late. I broke my promise to sleep early! *gasp* But then again I'm mostly well already. :P Just a stupid cough and lots of greenish phelgm. Stupid snot. -____-
I had fun on MSN with yunie, yao and loc. Well loc is known as furby now. ^___^ He walked right into that one! I mean, he did suggest it himself. :P
All I did was call him "furball", then followed by stuff like "furz", "furry", "furry dearie", and then he was like "why not just call me furby?" in a sarcastic way. Then he went "oops! shit..." and then I was like "LOL you set yourself up for that one FURBY". And that's how his new nickname came about. Lolz...
We people at BoAjjiang forums are downright nuts. It's like an extended family there. We keep coming up with weird nicknames for each other. Like Yunie's alternative nickname, which is "blonde". Say that to her and watch her go up in flames. It's really hilarious.
Tiggy is well, Tiggy. Cori wants us to call her Mrs Felton since she's obsessed with Tom Felton. And Cori also came up with a nickname for Jwu, which is "Tree", since she says that he's "always there". Lol....
And then there's dictator Coolin, that I came up with. ^__^ Addkidd = Charlie = Fishie. I came up with the Fishie nickname. :P And now poor Fishie's on everyone's dinner menu in BJ. ^__^ And then there's Choopy, Jwu's and Fishie's favorite punching bag. ^__^
I'm thinking of giving Jwu a new nickname. Like Twinkie. Cos he keeps saying that he's "a twinkie that speaks only english and a little taiwanese". ^___^
Well my own nickname is fairly pedestrian. It's Esty, short for my username Estrea. Although Furby came up with a new one called "Da shizznizz" or something like that. -___- And of course I have many other nicknames on various forums. Everyone knows me as Krista on solid07, since it's my pen name. And Kanaii calls me everything from Vampy to Pogo Stick. -___- Lol...
Oh and on the Vampyrs forum my "mom" calls me kiddo, or just simply "My daughter~~~". Lol. And on Vampyrs its worse, the kind of nicknames we get. Mine is Ice, which is good compared to others. I mean, Lex, aka Jack, is now known as Dorothy after a nickname poll. Lol. And my mom is now Tinkerbell. ROFLMAO!!!
And of course, who can forget Ben and his alterego BunnyPink? ^__^ And then there was Matt being christened "Bob the Builder", and Kitty getting turned into "Puss in Boots". I can't really remember the other one...hmm. But these can tell you the kind of crazy stuff we go through in terms of nicknames. ^___^
I also have several old nicknames from past experiences, like Sephi. Kent still calls me that, I guess its a habit now for him. Elena was my very first pen name when I started out on Fanfiction.net. Now I know that Elena is actually a Russian name. Didn't know that before lol. Well it still sounds cool anyway, and I used the name to name one of many alteregos that I have.
To summarise my alteregos:
Sephi = evil mad scientist
Elena = Hyper, crazy pacifist that has a sadistic streak sometimes
Estrea = Calm, morose, level-headed, bitter, very negative and cynical but also has a morbid sense of humor. Evil to boot.
Rex = Self-important asshole with an attitude problem. Plus needs hormonal control.
??? = My philosophical side. Loves to argue with me over abstract concepts and theories.
Well that's about it. The "???" is unnamed only because we are still currently disputing over whether he/she/it is actually an alternate side of me, or a separate entity, or even just simply me. It's a topic of serious discussion which we bring up when we both have nothing better to do. ^__^
I sound weird don't I? Giving my alteregos names and personalities. Well maybe not weird. Maybe other people do that too. But I guess not many people argue with their alteregos on the definition of whether the alterego is really the alterego, or YOU are the alterego, and the thing you think is the alterego is the real thing...
Now THAT is a concept guaranteed to give you a perpetual headache if you think too much into it.
In fact, I'm gonna go to retire to bed now and argue some more with that little voice over who is the real person here. ^___^
Ta ta~~~
Hehe.
...what am I "hehe"ing about? Hmm no idea, just came out randomly.
Today's National Day celebrations in school was DAMN LAME. Why do I say that? Well, for one thing, parade was boring, the performances in the hall were boring, the mass singing in the hall at the end was mildly interesting, but since I wasn't inside the hall, it sucked. -_______-
First thing, the choir singing was...unhearable? As in, we can't hear them. I'm not sure if the voices we heard were from the recording on the tape or its the real time voices. But the one where this dude comes out with the microphone pretending to sing, well, I knew it at once that he wasn't really singing, just lipsynching. How would I know?
Well, it comes from observing BoA too much during the videos of her performances, so I can easily tell if someone's lipsynching after some watching. BoA's hard to catch though, she once lipsynched My Prayer so perfectly that I could barely notice that she wasn't singing live. The only giveaway: I had already memorized how the cd version sounds like, and so.....^___^
But back to the point, I noticed how the guy, when he was "singing" the long notes, he pulled the mic too far away from his mouth. That's the most obvious giveaway. Another would be that he doesn't sound nervous AT ALL, simply because since he isn't actually singing, obviously his "voice" doesn't sound nervous! Doh...
And then, at the end of the whole thing, with the mass singing. The uniform groups were funny. But I simply smiled along, before going to a corner and brooding quietly even as the hall rocked with hearty singing. It probably didn't help that the faint buzzing sensation at the back of my head made me slightly dizzy. And also because I suddenly felt isolated amongst the crowd.
Strange isn't it? How my melancholy behaviour strikes at the times when I'm surrounded by a lot of people. In fact, sometimes I can be right in the middle of a sea of people, and suddenly I'll feel all alone. Lost. Like I didn't belong. Like...
That old familiar feeling. To run and hide in a dark corner. To sit in a place where I could see the sky. To feel the gentle breeze touch my cheeks. To silently cry deep inside my heart. That feeling of inadequacy...
I was never ever good enough. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, in my eyes, I'm never good enough.
I love to look at the sky, don't you know? To gaze on that vast expanse, feeling small. But feeling small isn't the point. I felt accepted. I was a part of nature. To look on the sky, sometimes I allow the feeling to wash over me, the peace the sky gave me winding me in a comforting embrace.
I love the sky, the stars. For they are always there. They won't ever leave, no matter where I am. No matter how long I live, the sky will always be there above me, reflecting my joys, my sorrow. I can lose myself in my silent communion with the vast skies, letting my mind reach out, fly free.
I'm a dreamer, aren't I? An unrealistic dreamer...that's what most of you must think. But you're wrong. I see only too well the real world. It's because of all the filth and corruption I see around me that I've pretty much given up faith on mankind. We are a species of degenerate creatures that is going to destroy the very earth we live in.
So maybe I am a dreamer. Simply because I don't want to live in this world. I rather live in the world I weave from my dreams. I rather let my mind reach out, to touch the endless sky, to go beyond the confines.
To be free.
If I sometimes seem cynical, its simply because I hold a deep contempt for life as it is. Why don't I change it? Simply put, why should I? We're gonna die anyway. Let some other person with heroic dreams take up that cause. I wish them well if they try.
Even if I know it will come to no end.
Anyway, I'll stop here.
Peace all.
]
...what am I "hehe"ing about? Hmm no idea, just came out randomly.
Today's National Day celebrations in school was DAMN LAME. Why do I say that? Well, for one thing, parade was boring, the performances in the hall were boring, the mass singing in the hall at the end was mildly interesting, but since I wasn't inside the hall, it sucked. -_______-
First thing, the choir singing was...unhearable? As in, we can't hear them. I'm not sure if the voices we heard were from the recording on the tape or its the real time voices. But the one where this dude comes out with the microphone pretending to sing, well, I knew it at once that he wasn't really singing, just lipsynching. How would I know?
Well, it comes from observing BoA too much during the videos of her performances, so I can easily tell if someone's lipsynching after some watching. BoA's hard to catch though, she once lipsynched My Prayer so perfectly that I could barely notice that she wasn't singing live. The only giveaway: I had already memorized how the cd version sounds like, and so.....^___^
But back to the point, I noticed how the guy, when he was "singing" the long notes, he pulled the mic too far away from his mouth. That's the most obvious giveaway. Another would be that he doesn't sound nervous AT ALL, simply because since he isn't actually singing, obviously his "voice" doesn't sound nervous! Doh...
And then, at the end of the whole thing, with the mass singing. The uniform groups were funny. But I simply smiled along, before going to a corner and brooding quietly even as the hall rocked with hearty singing. It probably didn't help that the faint buzzing sensation at the back of my head made me slightly dizzy. And also because I suddenly felt isolated amongst the crowd.
Strange isn't it? How my melancholy behaviour strikes at the times when I'm surrounded by a lot of people. In fact, sometimes I can be right in the middle of a sea of people, and suddenly I'll feel all alone. Lost. Like I didn't belong. Like...
That old familiar feeling. To run and hide in a dark corner. To sit in a place where I could see the sky. To feel the gentle breeze touch my cheeks. To silently cry deep inside my heart. That feeling of inadequacy...
I was never ever good enough. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, in my eyes, I'm never good enough.
I love to look at the sky, don't you know? To gaze on that vast expanse, feeling small. But feeling small isn't the point. I felt accepted. I was a part of nature. To look on the sky, sometimes I allow the feeling to wash over me, the peace the sky gave me winding me in a comforting embrace.
I love the sky, the stars. For they are always there. They won't ever leave, no matter where I am. No matter how long I live, the sky will always be there above me, reflecting my joys, my sorrow. I can lose myself in my silent communion with the vast skies, letting my mind reach out, fly free.
I'm a dreamer, aren't I? An unrealistic dreamer...that's what most of you must think. But you're wrong. I see only too well the real world. It's because of all the filth and corruption I see around me that I've pretty much given up faith on mankind. We are a species of degenerate creatures that is going to destroy the very earth we live in.
So maybe I am a dreamer. Simply because I don't want to live in this world. I rather live in the world I weave from my dreams. I rather let my mind reach out, to touch the endless sky, to go beyond the confines.
To be free.
If I sometimes seem cynical, its simply because I hold a deep contempt for life as it is. Why don't I change it? Simply put, why should I? We're gonna die anyway. Let some other person with heroic dreams take up that cause. I wish them well if they try.
Even if I know it will come to no end.
Anyway, I'll stop here.
Peace all.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Heyz everyone!
Decided to pop in before I went to bed.
Me been a good girl, not going to sleep past 10.30pm now, I try to sleep before that time. ^___^
School was ok today, except that my voice was scratchy and garbled up. No it's not funny! I didn't like how I sounded like some old evil monster thing. Lol...
Been getting hacking coughs. You know, the kind where you get into coughing fits and end up dizzy and unfocused when you stop. Hate those.
I hope my throat heals up soon enough. I always like to sing along with BoA's songs. And I can't do that in my present condition for fear of straining my throat and also I didn't want to ruin the effect of the song with my chicken squawking. ^___^
Btw, her next japanese single, entitled "Quincy", is gonna be released September 1st! That means it will reach Singapore around September 8th or so. ^___^ And we should get the full mp3 about one to two weeks prior to release. ^_____^ Hehe the short preview we get from the kose cf clip of the song sounds really cool. And not to mention BoA looks like a goddess....*droolz*
Heh I've been charitable enough to reupload the kose cf clip about 3 or 4 times for those leechers at solid. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Yousendit, that upload site, limits every file transfer to 25 downloads only! And with the heavy traffic that frequents solid, there's no way the downloads will last long enough. I mean, just that one topic alone garnered over 500+ hits. Crazy wot? And they sucked up all the bandwidth for my angelfire site.... ;___;
Oh well, as long as more people get access to BoA stuff, I'm happy! ^__^ Yeah I'm a diehard fan. And it seems that after returning to school, my gloomy mood has been mysteriously lifted. I guess seeing all the general craziness of my somewhat dysfunctional class is uplifting. Besides, I don't feel so ill anymore.
Damn. The moment I started typing that "I didn't feel so ill anymore", I started coughing like hell. Someone up there hates me I swear. Lol. I have a pessimistic complex. I think I'm secretly convinced that everyone is out to get me. Haha. Paranoia? Maybe, maybe not.
Oh welps, it's getting late, I should get to bed. And I need water. Water....for my poor throat...*gasp*choke*pant*cough*
^___^
]
Decided to pop in before I went to bed.
Me been a good girl, not going to sleep past 10.30pm now, I try to sleep before that time. ^___^
School was ok today, except that my voice was scratchy and garbled up. No it's not funny! I didn't like how I sounded like some old evil monster thing. Lol...
Been getting hacking coughs. You know, the kind where you get into coughing fits and end up dizzy and unfocused when you stop. Hate those.
I hope my throat heals up soon enough. I always like to sing along with BoA's songs. And I can't do that in my present condition for fear of straining my throat and also I didn't want to ruin the effect of the song with my chicken squawking. ^___^
Btw, her next japanese single, entitled "Quincy", is gonna be released September 1st! That means it will reach Singapore around September 8th or so. ^___^ And we should get the full mp3 about one to two weeks prior to release. ^_____^ Hehe the short preview we get from the kose cf clip of the song sounds really cool. And not to mention BoA looks like a goddess....*droolz*
Heh I've been charitable enough to reupload the kose cf clip about 3 or 4 times for those leechers at solid. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Yousendit, that upload site, limits every file transfer to 25 downloads only! And with the heavy traffic that frequents solid, there's no way the downloads will last long enough. I mean, just that one topic alone garnered over 500+ hits. Crazy wot? And they sucked up all the bandwidth for my angelfire site.... ;___;
Oh well, as long as more people get access to BoA stuff, I'm happy! ^__^ Yeah I'm a diehard fan. And it seems that after returning to school, my gloomy mood has been mysteriously lifted. I guess seeing all the general craziness of my somewhat dysfunctional class is uplifting. Besides, I don't feel so ill anymore.
Damn. The moment I started typing that "I didn't feel so ill anymore", I started coughing like hell. Someone up there hates me I swear. Lol. I have a pessimistic complex. I think I'm secretly convinced that everyone is out to get me. Haha. Paranoia? Maybe, maybe not.
Oh welps, it's getting late, I should get to bed. And I need water. Water....for my poor throat...*gasp*choke*pant*cough*
^___^
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
I don't feel well.
Understatement of the week. I feel like someone just used me as a punching bag and then stuffed me headfirst into a tub of molten lead...
I wonder where I come up with all these weird ideas?
I wonder if my presence is missed at school. I mean, other than the regular crew that I hang out with. I'm sure one or two of them might feel the loss of my presence, but I gather that it probably won't be more than 3 or 4.
Yeah I'm a pessimist. I rather think the worst of every situation, and so far, the people around me haven't let me down in my predictions. Maybe I should give up my day job and become a psychatrist. All I have to do is sit back, look serious, and deliver grave news in my "the world is going to end" face. Haha.
My system is screwed up. Sniffles, coughs, something akin to a rusty nail stuck in my throat, mucus with bloodstains mixed in it coming out of my nose, cold feet and hands, fever, stomach cramps....
That's right kids, don't overdose on Panadol. If it doesn't wind up killing you, you get symptoms like these. What a wonderful life I lead.
My throat is killing me. I can barely speak above a whisper, and then it still hurts. My voice comes out garbled. And it's like having a permanent fishbone wedged in your throat. Eugh...
Oh and then there is the mucus that is so thick I'm sure it could have gotten up and slithered off somewhere on its own. It looks awfully disgusting. Of course nothing beats seeing thick greenish mucus mixed in with something that looks suspiciously like blood. I swear I felt dizzy the first time i saw snot with blood in it. Especially since it came out of ME.
Headache. Too much sleeping and lying around. But I can't do much other than that. My dad graciously allowed me use of the computer after he saw that I could walk ten steps without wobbling. Oh welps.
Seeing BoA on my computer helped me to forget a little that I was in pain. God, she's so beautiful. Even just thinking and talking about her now, my pain is being pushed to the background. But the pain is still there...
I feel ill. Really ill. I could barely choke down dinner earlier. At least though I'm not puking up whatever I ate like yesterday. Yesterday was bad. Today is just the throat and intermittent sniffles that have greenish mixed with blood snot. I have yet to decide which is worse.
Oh and the fever. Yes the fever. I feel like I'm burning up, heat waves pouring off me. Then eventually, in between moments of lucidity, I felt the heat slowly burn off. And the headache is coming back...
Yes right now...even as I type. I can feel the menacing ache running around the back of my head, ready to do war on my already damaged grey matter. It surprises me that I can still be able to write like a pro, well, as pro as I ever was. If I'm pro at all in the first place...I think I'm deluding myself.
Ah yes...that old, familiar feeling. That feeling of equlibrium upset and torn apart. I feel like if I stand up now, I will fall over. My chest...it hurts. And my left arm aches, little electrical sparks running up and down that limb. My throat feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
...with my kind of luck, we can expect a sudden rainstorm to descend on those burning sands. Life loves to prove me wrong.
I feel so far away. Saliva dribbles unconsciously onto my t-shirt, and I wipe it off with one hand. I feel...giddy. Warm. Pain. It hurts? Yes yes...it hurts...
Brooding clouds speed on hidden wings
Bear the pain and sorrow swift on the winds
Thunder whips and cracks on shattered dreams
Life sways and turns on a single whim
Howling gales scream and weep
Choice of the child falls into the deep
Crimson sheets fall from Mother Sky
Single query remains "Why?"
Nice. Poem. I told you I write better in pain. And when better to write when I'm in real physical pain? Emotional pain is one thing, physical is another. The scars of the body will fade in time, the scars on the mind will linger forever.
Cracks in the walls... Don't you see? Haven't you seen me at the wall outside the laboratory, stroking the wide crack there? Once broken, it cannot be undone, only hidden...
Single shriek glides on silent wind
Sorrow echoes, fade and dim
Darkness covered with sheets of white
Hark, the baying of wolves in the night!
Son of shadow cloaked in robes of light
Evil hidden is not evil wiped
Scars seared on blighted flesh
Blood seeps through wire mesh
Death rides on swiftest steeds
Bringing news of a fallen weed
Sands of time flow and shift
But scars of time fail to fade and ease...
Another one. I'm on a roll. And they rhyme. They actually rhyme. Do people read these stuff? Perhaps...my teachers should read my poems and grade them. I've always had a dream, a dream where I sit down for a major examination for Literature, and then open the paper to see the unseen poem. Only to find that I was the one who wrote it. What a pipe dream huh?
Anyway, it's getting late. I'm tired. Awfully tired. My throat throbs with tiresome frequency. My heart palpitates indignantly, protesting its existence in this hollow shell.
I bid thee farewell and good night.
Godspeed.
]
Understatement of the week. I feel like someone just used me as a punching bag and then stuffed me headfirst into a tub of molten lead...
I wonder where I come up with all these weird ideas?
I wonder if my presence is missed at school. I mean, other than the regular crew that I hang out with. I'm sure one or two of them might feel the loss of my presence, but I gather that it probably won't be more than 3 or 4.
Yeah I'm a pessimist. I rather think the worst of every situation, and so far, the people around me haven't let me down in my predictions. Maybe I should give up my day job and become a psychatrist. All I have to do is sit back, look serious, and deliver grave news in my "the world is going to end" face. Haha.
My system is screwed up. Sniffles, coughs, something akin to a rusty nail stuck in my throat, mucus with bloodstains mixed in it coming out of my nose, cold feet and hands, fever, stomach cramps....
That's right kids, don't overdose on Panadol. If it doesn't wind up killing you, you get symptoms like these. What a wonderful life I lead.
My throat is killing me. I can barely speak above a whisper, and then it still hurts. My voice comes out garbled. And it's like having a permanent fishbone wedged in your throat. Eugh...
Oh and then there is the mucus that is so thick I'm sure it could have gotten up and slithered off somewhere on its own. It looks awfully disgusting. Of course nothing beats seeing thick greenish mucus mixed in with something that looks suspiciously like blood. I swear I felt dizzy the first time i saw snot with blood in it. Especially since it came out of ME.
Headache. Too much sleeping and lying around. But I can't do much other than that. My dad graciously allowed me use of the computer after he saw that I could walk ten steps without wobbling. Oh welps.
Seeing BoA on my computer helped me to forget a little that I was in pain. God, she's so beautiful. Even just thinking and talking about her now, my pain is being pushed to the background. But the pain is still there...
I feel ill. Really ill. I could barely choke down dinner earlier. At least though I'm not puking up whatever I ate like yesterday. Yesterday was bad. Today is just the throat and intermittent sniffles that have greenish mixed with blood snot. I have yet to decide which is worse.
Oh and the fever. Yes the fever. I feel like I'm burning up, heat waves pouring off me. Then eventually, in between moments of lucidity, I felt the heat slowly burn off. And the headache is coming back...
Yes right now...even as I type. I can feel the menacing ache running around the back of my head, ready to do war on my already damaged grey matter. It surprises me that I can still be able to write like a pro, well, as pro as I ever was. If I'm pro at all in the first place...I think I'm deluding myself.
Ah yes...that old, familiar feeling. That feeling of equlibrium upset and torn apart. I feel like if I stand up now, I will fall over. My chest...it hurts. And my left arm aches, little electrical sparks running up and down that limb. My throat feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
...with my kind of luck, we can expect a sudden rainstorm to descend on those burning sands. Life loves to prove me wrong.
I feel so far away. Saliva dribbles unconsciously onto my t-shirt, and I wipe it off with one hand. I feel...giddy. Warm. Pain. It hurts? Yes yes...it hurts...
Brooding clouds speed on hidden wings
Bear the pain and sorrow swift on the winds
Thunder whips and cracks on shattered dreams
Life sways and turns on a single whim
Howling gales scream and weep
Choice of the child falls into the deep
Crimson sheets fall from Mother Sky
Single query remains "Why?"
Nice. Poem. I told you I write better in pain. And when better to write when I'm in real physical pain? Emotional pain is one thing, physical is another. The scars of the body will fade in time, the scars on the mind will linger forever.
Cracks in the walls... Don't you see? Haven't you seen me at the wall outside the laboratory, stroking the wide crack there? Once broken, it cannot be undone, only hidden...
Single shriek glides on silent wind
Sorrow echoes, fade and dim
Darkness covered with sheets of white
Hark, the baying of wolves in the night!
Son of shadow cloaked in robes of light
Evil hidden is not evil wiped
Scars seared on blighted flesh
Blood seeps through wire mesh
Death rides on swiftest steeds
Bringing news of a fallen weed
Sands of time flow and shift
But scars of time fail to fade and ease...
Another one. I'm on a roll. And they rhyme. They actually rhyme. Do people read these stuff? Perhaps...my teachers should read my poems and grade them. I've always had a dream, a dream where I sit down for a major examination for Literature, and then open the paper to see the unseen poem. Only to find that I was the one who wrote it. What a pipe dream huh?
Anyway, it's getting late. I'm tired. Awfully tired. My throat throbs with tiresome frequency. My heart palpitates indignantly, protesting its existence in this hollow shell.
I bid thee farewell and good night.
Godspeed.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
I feel ill. Really. *coughs*
Woke up this morning with a horrible headache. Plus a sore throat. And a sniffly nose. Damn. Aish.
But enough about that. Kanaii came on today! MSN of course. It was great seeing her again. And she said she missed me terribly. Truth to be told, I missed her too. She was a great friend, even if we didn't know each other in real life.
I wonder if I could ever see her in real life? I mean, we're in different parts of the world. Currently she's on vacation in hongkong, and she appears to be having fun. Although she broke her mp3 player...poor thing.
I'm the only one who replies to her emails, so she says. Well of course I do. Whoever I consider my friend, I will treat them exceptionally well. Well most of the time that is. It depends...on the friend and on my mood. If the friend is someone worth it, then I'll risk life and limb for them. I'm like that.
Of course, as for the people I dislike, I generally avoid them. Why risk unnecessary confrontations? It's not worth my time and energy to get into disputes like that. Not that I dislike that many people. Well actually I do, but hate? Hate is a strong word.
But yes, I do hate some people. But if you wanted to get right down to it, I hate anything and everything, especially myself, for being the kind of person I am. I told Dawn once that I was in the process of wearing down what is left of my conscience. That is true.
But deep down I'm not evil. No matter what I say or do, I'm still not completely dark in there. There's a single pathetic flame flickering in there, and I can't and won't extinguish it. To do that would be to lose myself, what's left of who I used to be. Dramatic-sounding doesn't it? Dawn said my life sound like a drama. It's true. And I'm the lead actor, the director, and the producer.
I made it happen this way, don't you see? So many choices, I could have done things differently, but I didn't. I told Dawn that how our life turns out is the result of little things. Big things are the result of little things. One word can change a person's life. So can a decision to accept or decline something. A single moment, that's all our life needs to unfold in different ways.
Sometimes I laugh at all these. How pathetic we humans are. To think that we are in control. No we aren't. All we can do is make our decisions, and see how it is swallowed up in the great web of life, vibrating in unison with the myriad decisons of millions and billions of lives around us. That is our life. We are affected by not only our own decisions, but the decisions of the ones around us.
Fate, predestination. I don't believe in all those. I firmly believe that our lives are in the hands of every little thing around us. We humans hold sway as masters of the earth, but the earth embraces us within its grip. How vulnerable we are...yet we continue to err. Perhaps the only plague upon this earth is us, us humans. We have poisoned the waters, toxified the air, ruined the soil. We're killing that which that supports us. If humans were to die, we would deserve it.
Enough of this melodramatic declarations. I tire even of my own pomposity. Strange isn't it? I tried being a bit more bitter and retrospective in class. It worked out admirably well. I voiced some somewhat controversial views in class, well not that controversial, but you get the idea. I think my life is getting way too much like an overdrawn and angsty soap opera. Good lord...
Even when I'm voicing my views here, I end up making my words and sentences flow out like some professional piece of work that I'm planning to hand up. Haha. Occupational hazard perhaps. Shoddy writing disgusts me. And a mediocre piece of work is enough to give me a fit. I abhore atrocious writing. Anyone who manages to self-destruct a piece of writing within the 1st 3 lines should be dragged out and shot. Anyone who can bore their audience to death with their soppy skills should be burnt at the stake and their bodies mutiliated. Ok maybe I'm going too far, but I'm sure you get my point.
That's one of the reasons why I tend to skim over the works of my own classmates. Well except for those that write well. Or those who for once managed to write well. I'm not an absolute genius at writing, but I hope people will forgive my apparent disdain when I see bad pieces. It's an insult to writing when atrocious works pop up. Of course I don't tell anyone that. Well I'm saying it here, but somehow the effect is different. I could never explain it to you.
Writing is like a religion to me. Authors love and hate very intensely. When true writers see a good piece of work, they will immediately fall before it in worship and adoration. I'm not kidding, I've seen some really good ones online before that made me laugh and cry as the author skilfully laid out the story. I can only sigh and weep that my own efforts are as dust before something like that.
Which brings me to the next part. While we may fall in love with an exceptional piece of writing, we can be filled with a irrational hatred and resentment that someone could produce something that was so much more superior to something we ourselves had produced. It happens. I was on the verge of tearing my skin off because of that irrational fit of anger and jealousy. Trust me, it happens.
There's no worse occupation that being an author, a poet, an artist, or even a musician. We are constantly barraged with the extremes of emotion as we go on with our work. To be raised up into the heavens when we produce an excellent piece, but to be plunged into the deepest abyss of despair when all is not well. Loss of inspiration can kill, literally. We simply cannot deal with it. To lose it is to lose the meaning of our existence.
Maybe I might sound like some insane, overdramatic person with delusions of being a great writer. I may not be great, but I have the soul of a true writer. A true writer does not have to be formally recognised as great. It's just within us. This burning desire to keep writing. To orchestrate the most beautiful pieces of writing that will move the heavens. To write so well that the gods themselves will envy us. That is what every writer wants to be.
Unfortunately, I do not have the iron will. I cannot succeed, simply because I cannot focus. I am weak. That is my Achilles' heel. And knowing this, more pain is caused to me. I know I can do it, but yet...
Imploring hands seek but do not reach
Brushing gently upon forbidden breach
Despair wrecked on tortured wretch
Nothing left for soul to fetch
Burning desire fade to none
Frozen core more than done
Nothing left for one to seek
Death's Toll sounds in charnel reek
Spontaneous. Totally random. It's not too good. Some parts don't seem to click. Oh well.
I'm gonna die. Really I am. Think I can get myself gravely ill? I could...go downstairs and hide in the playground. I'll be sick by morning. Not that I'm already not sick. I feel ill already...
If you can't guess already, writing IS my religion. I don't believe in Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or whatever other religion. My love for writing seals my fate. Oh well, what a way to go.
There's a bunch of Panadol tablets in the kitchen. Should I take some? I want to sleep. I wanted to sleep a long time ago. Sleep...rest...darkness....
Death's door beckon with frightening ease
Tears of the fallen soothe the raging beast
Soul's loss to endless dark
Avenge the one bound to miss its mark
Silence reigns in night and day
Weep for the foolish one who lost his way
Raven's cry echo and fall
Broken child twist and fall
A single sound rise from rosy rifts
Only this,
Forgive...
Hmm. Inspiration comes at all the wrong times. Impending doom makes me write better poems. Odd isn't it? I'm a gothic poet. Erika says so. How well she knows. And I'm starting to rhyme unconsciously. Oh woe is me.
My granny's calling. I'm ignoring. I rhymed again. Goddamn. This ain't working, not while while I'm rocking. Crap, I did it again. >___<
I should name my poems. I really should. But I can't think of anything. Oh well. I will post these up at solid. See how they're received....
Maybe, just maybe...but then again it's too late for maybes is it? Too late for redemption...
]
Woke up this morning with a horrible headache. Plus a sore throat. And a sniffly nose. Damn. Aish.
But enough about that. Kanaii came on today! MSN of course. It was great seeing her again. And she said she missed me terribly. Truth to be told, I missed her too. She was a great friend, even if we didn't know each other in real life.
I wonder if I could ever see her in real life? I mean, we're in different parts of the world. Currently she's on vacation in hongkong, and she appears to be having fun. Although she broke her mp3 player...poor thing.
I'm the only one who replies to her emails, so she says. Well of course I do. Whoever I consider my friend, I will treat them exceptionally well. Well most of the time that is. It depends...on the friend and on my mood. If the friend is someone worth it, then I'll risk life and limb for them. I'm like that.
Of course, as for the people I dislike, I generally avoid them. Why risk unnecessary confrontations? It's not worth my time and energy to get into disputes like that. Not that I dislike that many people. Well actually I do, but hate? Hate is a strong word.
But yes, I do hate some people. But if you wanted to get right down to it, I hate anything and everything, especially myself, for being the kind of person I am. I told Dawn once that I was in the process of wearing down what is left of my conscience. That is true.
But deep down I'm not evil. No matter what I say or do, I'm still not completely dark in there. There's a single pathetic flame flickering in there, and I can't and won't extinguish it. To do that would be to lose myself, what's left of who I used to be. Dramatic-sounding doesn't it? Dawn said my life sound like a drama. It's true. And I'm the lead actor, the director, and the producer.
I made it happen this way, don't you see? So many choices, I could have done things differently, but I didn't. I told Dawn that how our life turns out is the result of little things. Big things are the result of little things. One word can change a person's life. So can a decision to accept or decline something. A single moment, that's all our life needs to unfold in different ways.
Sometimes I laugh at all these. How pathetic we humans are. To think that we are in control. No we aren't. All we can do is make our decisions, and see how it is swallowed up in the great web of life, vibrating in unison with the myriad decisons of millions and billions of lives around us. That is our life. We are affected by not only our own decisions, but the decisions of the ones around us.
Fate, predestination. I don't believe in all those. I firmly believe that our lives are in the hands of every little thing around us. We humans hold sway as masters of the earth, but the earth embraces us within its grip. How vulnerable we are...yet we continue to err. Perhaps the only plague upon this earth is us, us humans. We have poisoned the waters, toxified the air, ruined the soil. We're killing that which that supports us. If humans were to die, we would deserve it.
Enough of this melodramatic declarations. I tire even of my own pomposity. Strange isn't it? I tried being a bit more bitter and retrospective in class. It worked out admirably well. I voiced some somewhat controversial views in class, well not that controversial, but you get the idea. I think my life is getting way too much like an overdrawn and angsty soap opera. Good lord...
Even when I'm voicing my views here, I end up making my words and sentences flow out like some professional piece of work that I'm planning to hand up. Haha. Occupational hazard perhaps. Shoddy writing disgusts me. And a mediocre piece of work is enough to give me a fit. I abhore atrocious writing. Anyone who manages to self-destruct a piece of writing within the 1st 3 lines should be dragged out and shot. Anyone who can bore their audience to death with their soppy skills should be burnt at the stake and their bodies mutiliated. Ok maybe I'm going too far, but I'm sure you get my point.
That's one of the reasons why I tend to skim over the works of my own classmates. Well except for those that write well. Or those who for once managed to write well. I'm not an absolute genius at writing, but I hope people will forgive my apparent disdain when I see bad pieces. It's an insult to writing when atrocious works pop up. Of course I don't tell anyone that. Well I'm saying it here, but somehow the effect is different. I could never explain it to you.
Writing is like a religion to me. Authors love and hate very intensely. When true writers see a good piece of work, they will immediately fall before it in worship and adoration. I'm not kidding, I've seen some really good ones online before that made me laugh and cry as the author skilfully laid out the story. I can only sigh and weep that my own efforts are as dust before something like that.
Which brings me to the next part. While we may fall in love with an exceptional piece of writing, we can be filled with a irrational hatred and resentment that someone could produce something that was so much more superior to something we ourselves had produced. It happens. I was on the verge of tearing my skin off because of that irrational fit of anger and jealousy. Trust me, it happens.
There's no worse occupation that being an author, a poet, an artist, or even a musician. We are constantly barraged with the extremes of emotion as we go on with our work. To be raised up into the heavens when we produce an excellent piece, but to be plunged into the deepest abyss of despair when all is not well. Loss of inspiration can kill, literally. We simply cannot deal with it. To lose it is to lose the meaning of our existence.
Maybe I might sound like some insane, overdramatic person with delusions of being a great writer. I may not be great, but I have the soul of a true writer. A true writer does not have to be formally recognised as great. It's just within us. This burning desire to keep writing. To orchestrate the most beautiful pieces of writing that will move the heavens. To write so well that the gods themselves will envy us. That is what every writer wants to be.
Unfortunately, I do not have the iron will. I cannot succeed, simply because I cannot focus. I am weak. That is my Achilles' heel. And knowing this, more pain is caused to me. I know I can do it, but yet...
Imploring hands seek but do not reach
Brushing gently upon forbidden breach
Despair wrecked on tortured wretch
Nothing left for soul to fetch
Burning desire fade to none
Frozen core more than done
Nothing left for one to seek
Death's Toll sounds in charnel reek
Spontaneous. Totally random. It's not too good. Some parts don't seem to click. Oh well.
I'm gonna die. Really I am. Think I can get myself gravely ill? I could...go downstairs and hide in the playground. I'll be sick by morning. Not that I'm already not sick. I feel ill already...
If you can't guess already, writing IS my religion. I don't believe in Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or whatever other religion. My love for writing seals my fate. Oh well, what a way to go.
There's a bunch of Panadol tablets in the kitchen. Should I take some? I want to sleep. I wanted to sleep a long time ago. Sleep...rest...darkness....
Death's door beckon with frightening ease
Tears of the fallen soothe the raging beast
Soul's loss to endless dark
Avenge the one bound to miss its mark
Silence reigns in night and day
Weep for the foolish one who lost his way
Raven's cry echo and fall
Broken child twist and fall
A single sound rise from rosy rifts
Only this,
Forgive...
Hmm. Inspiration comes at all the wrong times. Impending doom makes me write better poems. Odd isn't it? I'm a gothic poet. Erika says so. How well she knows. And I'm starting to rhyme unconsciously. Oh woe is me.
My granny's calling. I'm ignoring. I rhymed again. Goddamn. This ain't working, not while while I'm rocking. Crap, I did it again. >___<
I should name my poems. I really should. But I can't think of anything. Oh well. I will post these up at solid. See how they're received....
Maybe, just maybe...but then again it's too late for maybes is it? Too late for redemption...
